


Life is a song (I'm still learning the words)

by adagietto4



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: I Tried, angst i think?, post-Sochi, song-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adagietto4/pseuds/adagietto4
Summary: London, March 2014Over a dimly lit and uncomfortable dinner in some business-casual restaurant in downtown London, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, now with two Olympic silver medals to go with their gold one, came to the decision to not compete the following season.ORHow Tessa and Scott may have felt about leaving competitive skating (the first time).





	Life is a song (I'm still learning the words)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at RPF and it's super rough, I'm sorry. This idea has been nagging me for weeks and I finally sat down a few days ago and got it over with, so please enjoy this wreck. I used to be good at writing, I swear! I can post a copy of my stellar free-writing from grade three about a pastry if you don't believe me ;) Also I did repost this, if you were one of the unfortunate 25 two have read it before I deleted it.

**London, Ontario**

**March 2014**

Over a dimly lit and uncomfortable dinner in some business-casual restaurant in downtown London, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, now with two Olympic silver medals to go along with their gold one, came to the decision to not compete the following season. If they were being honest, it was an enormous relief have that weight of competition lifted off of their shoulders. ( _You can eat more than just a salad, Tess, we’re not trying to impress anyone anymore._ )

The decision had not been an easy one. Together, they had won almost every award imaginable in ice dance and despite their “defeat” at Sochi, were happy with how their skating careers had gone. In spite of the depression they both felt about stepping away from competitive skating (their psychologist says it would be almost like grieving) they were both optimistic and supportive of each other in their future endeavours, but there was something else hanging in the air, too. Something that neither of them could put into words. Of course, there was that hollow sensation from the lack of rigorous training and competition, but there was something else.

Perhaps it was the feeling of missed opportunities. Things left unsaid. Like they missed a chance at something more, but they’re both afraid to admit it. Like one of them missed a cue or came out of sync in their favourite routine and they both missed out on the prize, they just don’t know who it was who messed up (maybe it was both of them). This uneasy tension surrounds their decision, so palpable despite amicably agreeing to not compete. Maybe they both thought this would somehow be a means to an end for them, which was what they were both afraid of most.

After paying their bills, they slip out onto the slushy sidewalk, the sleet coming down making the air between them feel heavier than it already did. ( _Say hi to Cassandra for me, Scott._ ) ( _Oh, we’re, uh, not seeing each other anymore._ ) ( _Oh. Sorry._ ) For not the first time that night, they lapse into uncomfortable silence. With a sigh, they bid each other one last awkward goodbye and in the cold sleet of late March, head off in opposite directions to their cars.

Scott gets to his car first, but cannot bring himself to get in. Instead, he leans up against the door, resting his elbows on the roof, and lets the sleet pelt his back, seeping through his coat. He rests his head on his fists and allows himself to think. It’s nighttime in March, but the cold doesn’t bother him. He can’t really feel anything. He takes deep breaths as though in a pre-competition hug to try and control his racing heart but it only gets worse. It’s different doing it by himself. He finds no comfort in it, instead feeling like he’s stuck inside his own head. He begrudgingly gets into his car, slamming the door shut. He feels his temper rising, but he doesn’t understand why. 

Didn’t they both want this break?

 

_Don’t wish it away_

_Don’t look at it like it’s forever_

_Between you and me_

_I can honestly say_

_That things can only get better_

 

Tessa, two blocks in the opposite direction, gets in her car but does not start it. She puts her hands on the wheel, resting her head against them and closing her eyes. She tries the breathing technique to calm her racing heart too but simply doesn’t work. It feels wrong attempting their breathing technique by herself. If there’s a sting in her eyes and a lump growing in her throat, she ignores it. There are too many thoughts going through her head. She just really wants to go home.

They start their cars at the same time. The only radio station that they could ever agree on, the one that is set as the default station in both of their cars, is playing a melancholy song for both of them. The opening riff of the piano sends shivers up both of their spines.

Tessa immediately recognizes the song and leans back in disbelief, gazing at the little screen on her dashboard with a feeling like she’s just been punched in the gut. By a song. She’s glad the windows of her car are all fogged up, she would hate for anyone to see her like this—upset over a stupid song. Yet she craves comfort from the one person who could make her feel better, the one person who she knows she can’t have.

Scott also recognizes the song. It’s not the first time he’s heard it on this radio station but he feels as though someone is playing it for him this time. He feels anger bubbling up inside him. Anger _and_ sadness, his worst combination. He hates how his emotional side is so predictable and always affects those around him. He’s gotten better at controlling and curbing his emotional outbursts over the years, but right then, he feels so done and at the end of his rope he makes no effort to hold back. He’s alone, anyway. For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

 

_And while I’m away_

_Dust out the demons inside_

_And it won’t be long_

_Before you and me run_

_To the place in our hearts_

_Where we hide_

 

Tessa pulls away from the curb and starts her short and familiar drive to her North London home, the taunting chords and the passing street lights sweeping through her car making everything seem even more eerie. The lights are blurred by both the swipes of the windshield wipers and the unshed tears that she refuses to let fall—at least until she gets home. She attempts to calm herself again with breathing techniques but her breaths come out shallow and ragged.

Scott rips off his coat and whips it into the backseat, flinging sleet across his car. He is embarrassed, heat creeping up his neck, that he’s let his temper get the better of him. He covers his face with his hands and finds that they’re wet with melted sleet and tears that he had done his best to ignore but managed to leak out regardless. He sharply inhales and pounds his hands on the steering wheel. Once, twice, three times in quick succession. ( _Stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself, Scott. Get over it!_ ) He knuckles away his angry tears and puts his car in drive.

 

_And I guess that’s why they call it the blues_

_Time on my hands could be time spent with you_

 

The heat is blasting in Tessa’s car but she feels so cold. She tightens her jacket around herself and uses her sleeve to wipe at her nose, a habit her mother used to her mad at her for when she was a child, but she’s not a child anymore. ( _Stop crying, Tess. You’re not a damn child._ ) She turns up the radio in an attempt to distract herself and drown out her loud sniffles—from who exactly? She doesn’t know. She is so cold.

Scott’s hands tighten around the steering wheel with a squeak of the leather, his knuckles turning from red to white. He lets muscle memory drive the car, not paying too much attention to where he is. He’s taken this route so many times since he was a child it’s like he’s on autopilot. Like an old program they’ve run through countless times. Like an old worn out record of his favourite song that he still knows all the words to.

 

_Laughin like children_

_Livin like lovers_

_Rollin like thunder_

_Under the covers_

_And I guess what’s why they call it the blues_

 

Still on autopilot, he reminisces, but all he can see is his home arena and that little girl with huge mittens and enormous skating talent skating laps around him. He laughs. Laughs at himself, laughs at her, laughs at the memories. It’s an angry, teary laugh. What is he angry at? He doesn’t know. The memories? Those are all they have left now.

That’s worth a laugh.

And a cry.

 

_Just stare into space_

_Picture my face in your hands_

_Live for each second_

_Without hesitation_

_And never forget I’m your man_

 

Tessa’s mind drifts as she drives down the empty streets, letting the song take her when she is brought back to what Scott said to her that evening back at the restaurant.

_“You know, T,” Scott started, “You can do anything. You could take over the world if you put your mind to it.” Tessa scoffed._

_“That’s not true.” She rolled her eyes, but Scott insisted._

_“It totally is.” He rested his hand on top of hers with a pat. “That’s why I know you’ll be ok when all of this is finally over and you’ve moved on with your life.” He got quiet with his last sentence and pulled his hand away, quickly placing it back in his lap and leaning back against his chair with a clear of his throat, diverting his gaze. He was closing up, Tessa could tell. Her eyes softened as she spoke, trying to pull him back in._

_“Hey,” she hummed. “We always have each other, remember?”_

_“Yeah,” he mumbled in reply, “I guess I’m just trying to say never let anyone can tell you you can’t do something. We’re free now, and I know you’ll do amazing things.” He knocked back the rest of his wine. “Never second guess yourself.”_

She is pulled from her trance as she comes to a stop in front of a stop sign underneath a dying streetlamp, which is when she realizes that her tears are freely flowing down her face. She paws at the streaks on her face but it’s no use. She chokes out a sob, clamping her freezing hands over her face as she fails to hold it in any longer. She doesn’t move from the intersection. She’s in a low-traffic area, it’s the dead of night, and there’s no one around her. She doesn’t care. She sits at the intersection sobbing, waiting for someone—anyone—to comfort her.

 

_Wait on me girl_

_Cry in the night of it helps_

_But more than ever_

_I simply love you_

_More than I love life itself_

 

Scott knew that his drive back home would take him through Tessa’s neighbourhood. He rolls down all the windows in an attempt to cool himself off (a side-effect of getting so worked up is getting really warm, which only gets him more worked up). The song still croons through his car but he can’t bring himself to turn it down or off. Instead, he turns it up, finding something cathartic in driving through a big neighbourhood late at light blaring music. So what if he wakes up every baby on the street or sends a few dogs howling?

His eyes don’t seem to want to cooperate with him, still leaking tears which he eagerly swats away. ( _Pull yourself together, Moir! If Tess can get on with her life, so can you._ ) The inside of his car is becoming soaked as sleet rains in through the open windows but he doesn’t mind it. The sleet is cold, but is doing little to cool him off. It mixes with his tears and turns his face into a runny mess, napkins having done no good. He reaches in behind his seat for a towel he knows he keeps in back, barely noticing the brake lights from the car in front of him. Finding the towel and slamming his brakes, Scott wipes his face and stares at this other car, the red glow of their brake lights shimmering through his damn tears.

Scott sits there for a few seconds with this other driver, who isn’t moving. ( _What the hell are they waiting for?_ ) He is in a no-bullshitting mood and quickly gets beyond annoyed with this other driver, and was about to honk his horn at them when he takes a closer look.

Something doesn’t feel right to him. The car looks so familiar. Where does he know it from? He turns down the music to concentrate but he hears the same song coming from the other car too. Then it hits him.

“Tessa.”

Scott shifts his car into park, unbuckles himself, and yanks the door open in one seamless movement. He kicks his way through the slush until he reaches her driver-side door. Her windows are all fogged up and he can’t see inside, so he gingerly knocks on the window with his knuckle and says her name, not wanting to scare her.

Tessa is startled from her sorrowful reverie by a light rapping on her window. To her dismay, she can’t see who’s outside because of the fog on her window, so she shyly reaches a hand over to swipe it clear. ( _God, this is so embarrassing. Please don’t be a cop._ ) Just as her hand touches the window, she hears someone calling to her. She’d know that voice anywhere.

“Scott?”

She wipes the window clear and almost breaks out in a new wave of tears when she sees him standing outside her car. She gets out of her car the fastest she ever has and throws herself at him. Of course, he readily catches her.

 

_And I guess that’s why they call it the blues_

_Time on my hands could be time spent with you_

 

He holds her tighter than he’d ever held her before, burying his face into the place where her shoulder meets her neck. Never has he needed someone or something more than he needed her at that moment. He cradles her in his arms and is immediately shocked by just how cold she is and finds himself holding her tighter because of it. His anger washes away with the pouring sleet. She sinks into him and squeezes him like it’s the last time she’ll ever be able to ( _It might be, Tess._ ), pushing her face into his shoulder. She is freezing but he is practically sweating, his hug feeling to her like what a nice cup of tea feels like when she’s sick. She doesn’t mind the cold then. Finally, someone to just comfort her.

Scott is first to break the silence.

“I’m getting tears and snot in your hair, T.” His voice cracks as he speaks. “I’m sorry.” She gives him a watery laugh.

“Well, I’m getting tears and snot on your shirt,” she replies. “So I think we’re even.” He gives a tearful chuckle back, which turns into small cries. She starts to weep into his shirt, too.

 

_Laughin like children_

_Livin like lovers_

_Rollin like thunder_

_Under the covers_

 

The two of them stand there in that intersection in the middle of the night in freezing cold sleet for another couple of minutes, holding each other while they cry, both of them working up the courage to speak again.

“What’s wrong, Tess?” They both know its a rhetorical question.

“I don’t think I’m ready for the outside world,” she mutters, her throat scratchy and dry with emotion.

“Yeah,” Scott replies through sniffles, “me neither.” He puts his hands on her shoulders and pulls her away from him so he can look her in the eyes. Both of their faces are wet with tears and melted sleet but neither of them care. “But you know,” he continues, rubbing his hands up and down her arms, “when you are, you really will take this world by storm. You can do anything, T. I know you will.”

“We _both_ will,” Tessa says, “we may not always be together, but we’ll both do amazing things.”

Scott pulls her in again and plants a kiss on her forehead. They stay there in the intersection for a few more minutes until it’s stopped sleeting, wrapped up in each others arms until their breathing is synced and they’re both no longer crying.

“I love you, T,” Scott says, holding her forehead to his cheek.

“I love you too, Scott,” she whispers back.

 

_And I guess that’s why they call it the blues_

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos if you guessed the song! (It was I Guess That's Why They Call it the Blues by Elton John. I suppose it's not super unknown.) Like I mentioned in the above notes, I've reposted this because even though I'm still not super comfortable writing fic, you have to start somewhere! Anyway, if you've made it this far, I hope you enjoyed! Also, I fixed the "two Olympic silver medalists" part to be more accurate :)


End file.
